


Leave The World to Darkness (And to Me)

by Filigranka



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: (strong. if a little destructive), Angst, Emotional Porn, M/M, Mutual Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 09:00:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13610001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filigranka/pseuds/Filigranka
Summary: Two men, the past and the alcohol. What could go wrong?





	Leave The World to Darkness (And to Me)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Findarato](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Findarato/gifts).



> Thanks to I., for the beta! <3

‘Tired?’ There was only the slightest bit of question in Cloud’s intonation.

Vincent shrugged, carefully. He didn’t want to let the wine spill. Tifa would probably never forgive him—it was the expensive one.

‘No. Thank you for your concern,’ for his father—or rather his nannies—had taught him well. And it was Cloud. He tended to react to any form of even half-elaborate manners in the most amusing way.

And he had saved Vincent’s life. Given him purpose. Awakened him from his useless, dark slumber. “Savior” was the wrong word for Strife, too high and mighty, too pretentious, but—but, well, Vincent did, in fact, owe him everything. The Planet did as well. It was quite hard to find a non-pretentious word for this.

Cloud rolled his eyes and threw himself onto the chair next to Vincent. He had a bottle of strong Wutaian alcohol in his hand, already half-emptied. No cups.

Alcohol didn’t have much effect on Vincent, either, not anymore. He liked to pretend, though. This way, he could still enjoy it. The smell, the taste, the atmosphere. All the meaningless things, Barret would say. Cloud, perhaps, thought so, too. But voicing this would be too close to small-talk, wouldn’t it?

It told volumes about the sheer stubbornness of Strife that in the end it was Vincent, Vincent of all... beings and creatures of this world, who felt the need to break the silence. ‘Are you? Tired,’ he explained, when Cloud shot him a confused glance.

Cloud’s smile was probably intended as a little sheepish. But it turned into scowl. ‘No. Yeah. Whatever. I’ll go fetch myself another bottle.’ He hesitated, waiting, until Vincent shook his head.

He didn’t need anything, really. Not even this one glass in his palm. But the more unnecessary things were, the more humans fancied them, right?

‘So.’ Cloud was back with not one, but two bottles.  ‘You’re not tired, you’re just your usual “silent, broody and aloof” mood. Sure. Care to tell me why?’

Vincent sighed. ‘I’m not sure I can ever be tired again, you know? All I have is silence, broodiness and my smugness.’ Thank you, father, for the last one. ‘Forever and ever.’

‘Poor company.’ Cloud threw him the bottle. ‘This one is better.’

‘Yours, too.’

This time Cloud’s smile was a strife, no matter how cliche this sounded, an attack, quick move hitting you in the gut. ‘And the monsters in your body?’

‘I count them into my smugness.’

Cloud laughed at that. ‘I reckon they’re not silent nowadays? Mine are,’ he added sharply. Took a long gulp from the bottle.

‘And are you...’ Vincent was choosing his words very carefully ‘...content with that?’

‘Yeah. No. Whatever. It’s not like I can command them. Aer—They all must be really busy taking care of the Lifestream. Keeping us all safe and happy.’

Vincent wasn’t going to ask for the another one. For _this_ silence Cloud was surely grateful.

‘Except for this monsters we’ve killed this week.’ Strife lifted the bottle, eyed it and put it aside with a heavy sigh. ‘Mako-experiments. Just like me.’ _And you_ wavered between them, unspoken. ‘If something had gone wrong... well, worse than it went, either way... I might be one of them. Who would put me down then, I wonder?’

Not Vincent, definitely, because without Cloud Vincent would spend the next thousand years hiding from the world in some ridiculous coffin. But this wasn’t what Cloud wanted to, needed to, hear.

‘Perhaps me. Perhaps it would be you who would have to slay myself, if anything had gone even worse.’ If any of these inner beasts of his had gained just a little bit of control. ‘But it didn’t happen.’ Yet it might, one day, he thought darkly.

He counted—hoped—Strife’s hands would be swift, then. He didn’t dare to hope—to lie—that it wouldn’t tear Cloud apart. It would, it would in a million different ways, one crueler than another. And yet...

And yet, in the end, Vincent was a cruel, egoistic man. Worse than a Turk, if this blind devotion to Rufus was something to judge them by.

There was the clink of glass. ‘Hey, silent and broody. You’re actually right.’ Cloud wasn’t quite smiling, but he was definitely—amused. ‘Let’s drink to this. Celebrate a little.’ His fingers entwined themselves with Vincent’s on the glass-stem. ‘We’re alive.’ He lifted the glass— ‘Our enemies are dead. Good enough.’ —sipped the few last drops from it. Terribly impolite, thought Vincent to distract himself from Cloud’s impossible full lips, his sharp chin, his tongue, licking the rim of the glass, searching for the last drops of wine—

‘Good enough,’ he repeated, a little breathlessly. Seized Cloud’s chin and kissed him. He was already moving, standing up. ‘We are alive,’ he was repeating through their kisses, their bites, their hisses, through the impatient movements of their hands, pulling their trousers down, scratching the skin, the floor, the table, anything, to not make a noise.

‘Damn alive, we are’, commented Cloud, after all that, when they were lying on the floor, breathing heavily.

And when Vincent turned his gaze to him, still hazy from the adrenaline, the real smile was dancing in the corners of Cloud’s mouth.


End file.
